


Panwink

by coinseller



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, reupload from twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coinseller/pseuds/coinseller
Summary: A collection of Panwink kissing drabbles from my twitter!
Relationships: Lai Guanlin/Park Jihoon
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	1. Table Of Contents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you followed my twitter, you've probably already read all of these ;u;  
> I deleted it about a week ago, but it felt wrong to let these be lost to the internet since I wrote them for people ;;; (tho, i don't remember exactly who requested for each!!) anyway, i hope this fills all ur panwink hearts with joy uwu <3

**Table Of Contents**

  1. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other's lap.
  2. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.
  3. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.
  4. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.
  5. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference. + One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.




	2. Paperweight

It’s that time of year again when Guanlin has to attend to business back in Taiwan. Business that he can’t do from his laptop at home in Korea, which is already a strain since he’s basically a CEO in training, destined to take over his family’s company.

He’s already reluctant to leave his apartment because packing is always really hard. What’s even harder, though, is having to leave Jihoon behind.

“How long will you be goooonee,” Jihoon whines. Somehow, he’s got Guanlin in an octopus hold. He was just sitting on the couch for a bit, taking a break from packing, when Jihoon suddenly plopped down on his lap and wrapped both his legs and arms around him. “Last time you were there for an entire month.”

Guanlin’s heart clenches, both because Jihoon is really warm and his most favorite thing to hug, and because he doesn’t like to think about leaving the other too.

“I won’t be gone as long, I think,” Guanlin says, smiling a little because Jihoon’s breath is beginning to tickle the skin on his neck. “It’s only a few meetings. Besides, I’ll call every day.”

Jihoon _hmphs_ and latches on harder.

“Hyung, come on,” The younger laughs, trying to wiggle out of his grasp now. It only succeeds in making Jihoon tighten his grip. “I have a flight to catch.”

A few minutes pass and Jihoon doesn’t say anything, nor does he ever get up. Guanlin has stopped trying to stand up because he knows that it’s hopeless, so he just relishes in the little time he has left with the elder, one hand holding his phone, flipping through his emails, and the other brushing through Jihoon’s golden-brown dyed hair.

Too soon, Guanlin gets a message that his driver is here.

“Jihoon,” He whispers and nudges his shoulder lightly, “I really have to go now.”

The elder stays limp, letting Guanlin shake him, but never once making a move on his own. He lets out a quiet whine when Guanlin finally takes him by the shoulders and sits him back, looking at him now.

Jihoon looks tired and sad, it breaks his heart seeing him like this. He misses his warmth against his chest too, and almost lets Jihoon latch on again if not for the fact he had to catch a plane within the next hour.

“I’m sorry,” Guanlin utters, hands now resting at Jihoon’s waist. He thumbs at the hem of his sweater, moving in comforting patterns. “I’ll miss you.”

Jihoon frowns. “How much?” He urges, arms hanging loosely on the taller’s shoulders.

Guanlin laughs. He knows what the other is doing—what game he’s trying to play. “I’ll miss you a lot, hyung.”

“Really?”

“Yes. More than you can imagine.”

The elder can’t suppress his smile this time, hearing his response. But he quickly puts on an aloof expression again and squares his shoulders, pretending to be un-swayed. “Prove it, then.”

Guanlin grins and pulls Jihoon closer to him by the knees, positioning him more comfortably on his lap so that he can give the elder a peck on the lips. “Happy now?”

Jihoon snickers and wraps his arms around the taller’s shoulders again. Slowly, he lets his fingers get tangled in Guanlin’s dark hair and bumps his forehead against his. “Not quite.”

So Guanlin kisses him over and over again, basking in the softness of Jihoon’s lips, committing it to memory for the few weeks he’ll be gone. He doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied.

There’s a knock at their door and they separate breathlessly. Jihoon grumbles in the general direction of their entrance way and Guanlin laughs.

“Mr. Lai! Your driver is here!” A voice comes from behind the door.

Guanlin gives one last kiss to Jihoon’s lips, and the elder lets out a startled, yet pleased gasp. “Coming!” He calls.

Reluctantly, Jihoon slides off Guanlin’s lap and the younger sits up straighter, trying to fix his tie and his hair again.

“Have a safe flight,” Jihoon mopes, holding one of their throw pillows to his chest now.

The other already looks so lonely despite that he hasn’t even left yet. Guanlin shoots him a sad smile. “I’ll call you once I land.”

“I’ll be waiting then.”

The knocking sounds at the door again and just as Guanlin stands up to go, he falls back down onto the couch.

“Is something wrong?” Jihoon asks.

“My legs are asleep.” Guanlin blinks, turning to look at Jihoon who is smirking now.

“How convenient.”

“You planned this.”

Jihoon shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just _destined_ not to leave.”

“Riiight,” Guanlin hums.

With the little time they have left, Jihoon leans over and kisses the younger again.


	3. The Sweetest Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: blood

There are many rooms in Lai Guanlin’s manor. Rooms that were once filled with life, now desolate and abandoned—collecting dust which he no longer bothers to clean. Such is the life of someone who’s lived for hundreds upon hundreds of years.

It’s nightfall when Guanlin awakens. He steps out into the empty, ornate halls of his property, his shoes clicking against marble tiles, unnaturally steady, like the ticking of a clock. The sound echoes throughout the peaceful manor until he finally stops before a pair of large double doors. “I’m coming in,” He says quietly, before he enters.

Unlike the rest of the manor, this chamber is warm. A fire crackles softly within a grand, stone hearth. It illuminates the spacious area, each wall decorated lavishly with paintings and murals from eras long, long ago.

This room, and everything in it, is priceless to Guanlin. From the golden furniture to the plush velvet couches. They were all treasures gifted to him by powerful individuals who foolishly sought immortality from him— _a vampire_. Every last one of their attempts ended in vain, of course.

Amongst all his countless possessions, there is one that he treasures most above all. Sitting in the center of the room is a large bed encased by thick, white canopies, made of only the finest materials. Years of life has jaded the vampire, but when he pulls apart the fabric and sees Jihoon laying there, looking so serene and beautiful, something inside of him tightens.

Guanlin hastily sits at the edge of his bed and cups the human’s face in his cold, dead hands. Jihoon doesn’t stir, but he still greets him anyway, whispering, _“Good morning.”_

Minutes, then hours pass. And Guanlin fills it watching the rise and fall of the human’s chest, captivated with every soft breath he takes. He maps out the curves of his nose, his jaw, and the dip of his neck where two small holes rest above his jugular vein— _his doing._

Carefully, Guanlin touches the wound with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to see if he can still draw blood. When he pulls his finger away, it comes back red and warm. _Jihoon is still in the first few stages of his turning,_ he concludes.

Before turning back, Guanlin falls entranced with the blood on his finger. He brings it up to his lips, eyes sliding shut as he inhales its sweet, rich scent, before hesitantly placing the finger onto his tongue.

He nearly groans as an explosion of chocolate and cinnamon permeates his mouth, making his stomach do somersaults. He almost collapses, if not for Jihoon suddenly stirring in his sleep.

“Jihoon?” Guanlin whispers, collecting himself enough to seat himself closer to the other in bed.

Upon hearing his name, Jihoon’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown, pitch black and dark, but his irises glow red with a vibrancy akin to fire or rubies.

“Guanlin…?” He mutters, voice thick and scratchy. He looks around, unseeing—his eyes glazed over and struggling to stay open. It’s apparent that he’s still unused to the _changing_ , yet, he still tries to stretch his arms.

“How are you, my love,” Guanlin says, tenderly brushing Jihoon’s bangs from his forehead and planting a kiss there.

Jihoon stops struggling for a moment, and falls limp against the mattress. “M’ dizzy… _thirsty,”_ He moans.

Guanlin smiles gently, stroking his hair. He lets the human lean his feverish cheek against his icy palm. “It’ll go away soon,” he promises.

_“Mmm,”_ Jihoon hums in reply, nuzzling closer.

Predictably, the human turns his head and lazily tries to bite at Guanlin’s finger— _tries to draw blood._ It’s in his nature to do so at this stage, _he can’t help it_ , but his fangs are still too short and blunt to properly puncture Guanlin’s skin. Jihoon realizes this after a few tries and lets out a tired, needy whine.

“I can’t let you, Jihoon,” The vampire laughs.

Jihoon whines again. “But I’m so thirsty,” He manages to say, weakly kicking at the sheets like he’s throwing a tantrum.

Guanlin softens and whispers, _“I know,”_ before soothingly running his hand through the other’s hair again.

It surprises him that Jihoon has the strength to catch his wrist. The human blinks his eyes open, slowly and unsteadily, but this time, he _properly_ looks at Guanlin. _“Please,”_ He whimpers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Again, Guanlin finds himself enraptured by the redness of Jihoon’s eyes. They’re so unnaturally bright, he can’t figure out if it’s because he still has yet to fully _turn_ , or if they’ll stay like this forever.

With a gulp, Guanlin withdraws his hand and bites down on his own index finger. “Just a little then,” He agrees.

Slowly, he traces Jihoon’s plump, red lips with his blood-smeared finger. They’re warm and pliant, parting ever so slightly when Guanlin presses gently against his bottom lip. He begins to feel heady, exhaling when Jihoon sighs contentedly against his skin. Jihoon takes his upper lip between his teeth, licking his lips—tasting _Guanlin’s_ blood—when the vampire finally pulls away and watches him.

Guanlin doesn’t even think when he takes Jihoon’s chin, leans down, and kisses him—tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, and deepening it—spurred on by the taste of himself on Jihoon’s lips.

He absolutely relishes in the pleased sound he draws from the person he loves so, so much.

“Are you feeling better?” Guanlin asks when they part.

Jihoon smiles and nods weakly. “Yeah,” He croaks.

Guanlin smiles too, and places another kiss to his forehead. “Good.”

For the rest of the night, the vampire retells stories from his life while Jihoon dozes in and out of consciousness. Guanlin takes care of him, tries to comfort him when the pain from his _changing_ becomes momentarily unbearable.

Before Jihoon falls asleep, he tells Guanlin that he loves him. That he’s happy.

Guanlin takes Jihoon’s still warm hand and kisses his fingertips, feeling the life still thrumming through his veins against his own dead lips. Upon the next blood moon, Jihoon will fully turn and become just like him.

The vampire smiles. “I can’t wait to spend an eternity with you.”


	4. The Duty of a Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: blood, non-explicit violence

_A prince must marry a princess._ Such were the words Jihoon’s father, the king, had hone deep into his mind from an early age.

Jihoon supposes he’s a horrible son for not heeding these wishes, even more since they’re enforced with the good intentions of his family and the kingdom’s prosperity. But in his defense, a certain _someone_ from the king’s guard makes it near impossible for him to do so.

It’s only a matter of time until someone realizes that the crown prince is missing from the royal ball tonight. Especially since his father had prepared it for _him_ with the expectation he finds a suitable princess to wed by the day he turns twenty-one. Just a few months’ time.

Anyone at any moment—be it the king, a noble, or just a mere servant—could leave the party to find Jihoon standing on the balcony adjacent to the ballroom’s closed doors. They probably wouldn’t question him, though, since he is their prince, and he is breaking no rules since his appointed knight is there with him. From an outsider’s point of view, he probably just looks to be taking a break for fresh air. When in reality, it’s anything but that.

_“I-_ … I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, my prince,” Guanlin carefully apologizes, putting an end to their prolonged silence.

Jihoon doesn’t turn to him, nor say anything in response. He just continues to lean against the railings of the balcony, looking out towards the warm lights glowing from the many houses in his father’s kingdom. _Soon to be his_.

“I understand that my actions tonight, or rather… _as of recently_ have been unfit for the duties I have to serving you,” He continues, speaking slowly—sounding hurt. He pauses, then takes a long breath in, “I’ve been considering that maybe… I should resign from my position as your guard, and ask to be appointed elsewhere.”

Immediately upon hearing this, Jihoon pushes away from the railing and whips towards the taller, furious that he’d even suggest that.

_“No.”_ He growls.

Guanlin exhales deeply, distress prevalent on his features. Jihoon knows this must be hard on him too, but he couldn’t imagine having a different guard—someone who wasn’t Guanlin—as selfish and cruel as it may be.

He walks up to the taller and gently takes his face in his hand, running a gloved thumb over his smooth, white cheekbone, examining him. From this close, he can see how tired Guanlin is. His visible eye is dark and practically sunken in—probably from lost sleep due to the prince’s impending marriage tearing him up inside.

Seeing him like this makes something in Jihoon’s chest crumble.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes.

Jihoon shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s my fault for acting the way I did.” Guanlin replies sternly, staring hard at him now, “I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have grabbed you then— _I…_ I should know my place…”

Jihoon’s heart sinks, listening to Guanlin lower himself like that. They practically grew up together, the two of them. Jihoon still remembers the first day they met after his father assigned the other to become his appointed knight. At the time, he was nine, and Guanlin only seven.

The younger was a scrawny thing back then, somehow always dirty and impossibly weak. It was understandable though. He had been wandering the streets, starving and alone, for god knows how long until his father found him and took him in. He was brought to their castle to shadow Jihoon’s appointed knight, that is, until he was strong enough to guard the prince on his own. But Guanlin didn’t show signs of much improvement—he never talked, save for when he was answering a question where a nod or a head-shake wouldn’t suffice, and he was caught distracted, off in his own thoughts, more than once. Sometimes, from his window in the study, Jihoon would watch the young boy go through hours upon hours of rigorous training—from sword fighting to horseback riding, even studying castle etiquette in the library with him from time to time.

The first instance they had a real conversation was when Guanlin had taken a major beating during his sword fighting assessment, earning himself a handful of bruises and cuts in the process. Jihoon didn’t even know how his boney, little arms could hold a sword made from solid iron. He was concerned, but not all that surprised.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon had asked a wide-eyed, stunned Guanlin once they were finally alone.

The boy, of course, nodded. Since that was probably what he was told to do: _show no weaknesses._ But Jihoon knew better, sighing in response, and taking him by the hand to lead him into his quarters where he began to patch up his wounds himself.

“W-What are you doing?” Guanlin squeaked, wincing when the prince dabbed an alcohol drenched cotton ball to one of his bigger cuts.

“Taking care of you, silly. Hold still.”

The boy flinched away again when Jihoon tried to put a gauze to his cheek. “Why??”

“Because you’re hurt.”

“B-But you’re the prince.”

“So?”

Guanlin tore his eyes from him and flushed red, which Jihoon found absolutely endearing. “I should be the one protecting you…”

Back then, the younger was much smaller than him. He seemed even smaller in that moment, all cowered over and his hand so tiny in Jihoon’s. He had to face the horrors of the world at such a young age. Being here, practically forced to be his knight and swear his loyalty to Jihoon, probably wasn’t all that better if not counting the meals and a warm place to stay. Jihoon, although young, understood at least that much. “Well, I haven’t really given you a reason to protect me yet,” Jihoon offered, smiling and trying to get the younger to look at him again. He wasn’t all that successful, since the younger just seemed to flush even darker. “It must be hard to go through all this training without a proper reason, right?”

Guanlin merely looked away again, not wanting to say yes or no. However, he did eventually mutter, “But _you’re the prince_ and I’m… no one.”

“You’re not _no one_ , you’re Guanlin,” Jihoon corrected him. “And… I would like it a lot if we could be… _friends.”_

At this, the younger finally looked at him, but in shock. Jihoon flushed red in response too, his cheeks matching the color of Guanlin’s entire body. Being the prince was a lonely title. There were very few people he was allowed to see or could trust. But there was something he really liked Guanlin. Secretly, the elder found him rather cute.

“Of course, if that’s alright with you.” He added quickly.

Jihoon didn’t at all expect Guanlin to start crying. But he did, nodding hurriedly and wiping his face with his long sleeves. “I’d like that too! Th-Thank you, your highness.”

From then on, they were inseparable. When Jihoon wasn’t studying or when Guanlin wasn’t training, they’d explore the gardens or run through the castle together. If they weren’t found either laying in the grass or somewhere in Jihoon’s chambers, they were stealing from the chef’s kitchen or sneaking around through the castle’s many secret tunnels.

By the time they were teenagers, Guanlin was showing signs he’d outgrow Jihoon soon, despite that the elder still teased him for being a scrawny crybaby. But with their new ages, came more responsibility. Jihoon had to begin preparing himself to someday take over the throne as king, and Guanlin had to train harder than he ever had before, which meant they didn’t get to see each other as often anymore.

Guanlin was moved to a training center where he and dozens of other soon-to-be knights were to go through training like they never have before. And Jihoon, on the other hand, was always locked away in his study, forced to learn everything that would someday make him into a righteous king.

Once every few months, Guanlin would manage to sneak away from the training halls to climb up to the prince’s balcony and see him again. They’d talk about their lives and how the other was fairing—how they missed the times spent when they were younger. Every night, Guanlin would promise him that he’d become top of his class, become an elite member of the king’s guard, so he’d rightfully earn his spot next to Jihoon. And considering that Guanlin seemed bigger— _stronger_ —every time they’d secretly meet, Jihoon always replied with a smile, saying, “I’ll hold you to it, then.”

Almost four years passed before Guanlin emerged from his training, receiving high praises and a prominent position within the king’s guard. It was during his accolade when Jihoon got to see Guanlin again after all those years, kneeling down in front of the king and pledging his loyalty to their family. There was something different about him, Jihoon thought. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he knew it wasn’t a _bad_ different, just, that there was a more mature air to him—Guanlin seemed more poised. It didn’t really hit him until the knight peeked up from where he was bowing to offer Jihoon a small smirk, before turning his eyes back down to the king’s feet.

The small gesture made Jihoon’s heart stutter and his entire body heat up.

Nevertheless, it was refreshing to have Guanlin at his side again. The younger provided a sense of security to Jihoon, not just because he was his knight, but because he was someone familiar. Someone he could trust with all his soul and being.

Though, it felt as if there were a divide between them now. Guanlin didn’t speak up as much, just, doing his job, following in his shadow to make sure he was okay. Jihoon considered that maybe this was his fault too, seeing that he didn’t know how to talk to the other normally like they used to. It didn’t really help that he did notice—as much as it flustered him—the taller definitely did grow more handsome during the time they spent apart.

It made him wonder how Guanlin saw him, now that they were older. He liked to imagine that there was something more to their stolen glances and the subtle brushes between their fingers that sent electricity coursing through Jihoon’s veins.

Of course, he didn’t fully realize his feelings for the other until one fateful night, before he was about to head to sleep, when an assassin sent to kill him had appeared at his balcony, swiftly knocking him to the ground and pointing a sword to his throat.

Jihoon was scared for his life. He thought he was going to die in that instant, that is, until Guanlin showed up. The fight that followed had been ruthless, tearing Jihoon’s room to shreds and knocking over every bit of his furniture. In the end, Guanlin came out victorious, but earned himself gash along his left eye that would permanently be lost in the process.

The prince had never seen so much blood in his life, bursting into cries when Guanlin stumbled forward, clutching at his bleeding socket. Jihoon scrambled to his knees, holding his knight up by the shoulders and desperately trying to do _something_. But there was so much blood—he didn’t even realize that Guanlin was crying.

“You almost died,” He managed to say.

Jihoon wanted to tell him to shut up, that moving would only make the blood flow faster.

“I can’t imagine a world where I’d h-have to live… without you,” He croaked, smiling sadly, every word sounding laborious to speak. “You gave me a reason to live and… I-I almost lost you.”

Jihoon was appalled that the knight could even smile in this situation. He cried even harder, desperately trying to wipe all the blood away with his sleeves, feeling the knight beginning to lean more of his weight onto him—losing consciousness. “A-And I don’t want to lose you now,” He confessed to Guanlin.

Thankfully, the castle doctors rushed in just in time to bring him to the infirmary and stitch up his left eye, closing it forever. A reminder of the lengths the other would go for him. It was in the infirmary, when they were alone, when Jihoon first kissed Guanlin.

He remembers sitting at the edge of his bed, tears gushing from his eyes, feeling weak and miserable that he put Guanlin in that kind of danger. Guanlin had held his face in his hands, and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, saying he’d rather go through a hundred deaths than to watch Jihoon die right in front of him.

Kissing Guanlin felt right. Like, every suppressed emotion melted right out of him—every responsibility, his title as prince, just dissipated, and all he could think or care about was _him_. The boy who he grew up with. The boy who was always there for him—cared about him more than anything in the world.

Whenever they could find time alone, they exchanged kisses in corners, behind shelves, and secret little nooks and crannies away from the public eye. He loved the feeling of being in the knight’s arms—the sense of security he exuded. Guanlin’s lips felt so perfect against his, Jihoon couldn’t get enough of the sensation of dizziness that followed, his heart galloping in his chest when the other couldn’t get enough of him.

Jihoon felt the same exact way. _And he still does._

Going into their adulthood meant even more responsibilities, especially on Jihoon’s part. While he still cared about Guanlin immensely, he had a kingdom to take over—big shoes to fill. For that, they had to put their relationship on hold. Jihoon, somehow, was able to separate his feelings from his duties. But Guanlin, on the other hand, found it almost near impossible.

This night—the night of the royal ball—Jihoon had danced with many people, yet, none of them made him feel the way Guanlin makes him feel. He felt bad that Guanlin had to watch him do this. Especially with the way some of the party goers flirted with him and he, himself, had no choice but to reciprocate.

He could tell that even before the ball, Guanlin was at war with himself, tormented between his own duty and wanting Jihoon for himself. He never acted out until a princess from a neighboring kingdom tried to cling onto his arm, causing his knight to almost possessively yank him away. Which brought them to the balcony—Guanlin’s face in Jihoon’s hand, the prince mapping out the planes of Guanlin’s cheek with his thumb, and the both of them reciting apology after apology that never seemed to be enough.

“I would single-handedly conquer an entire kingdom if that meant I could be the one to marry you,” Guanlin suddenly whispers to Jihoon, turning his head so that he can kiss the palm of his hand.

Jihoon’s breath hitches, frozen as the knight twines their fingers together.

“But I am being selfish,” Guanlin admits, eyes turning downcast. “No matter what happens, my prince, I’ll stay by your side. Whether or not that means I get to be yours.”

Jihoon chokes up, wanting to tell Guanlin that _he’s_ the one being selfish; expecting Guanlin to stay by his side forever; watch him get married and have a family without him; live miserably knowing that Jihoon had chosen his duty as prince over spending a lifetime of happiness with Guanlin.

“If this is the last time we are to speak of our relationship, then,” Guanlin pauses, his heart breaking in his eyes, “May I kiss you one last time?” He requests.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, not wanting to say yes and mean that they never acknowledge that they loved each other again. That _he_ loves Guanlin more than a normal person could ever bear. Neither does he say no, signifying that he’s turned his back on his kingdom—his people—and chosen his own pleasures over the sake of everyone else’s.

Instead, Jihoon just kisses Guanlin. Like he’s done many times before. Yet, no matter how many times he kisses the knight, each time feels just as new, breathless, and exhilarating.

Momentarily, he forgets that he’s a prince. His worries evaporate, and all he can think about the feeling of Guanlin slotting his lips between his, holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, desperately trying to make the most out of the little time they have before someone spots them.

Jihoon’s knees feel weak, and he relishes in the way that Guanlin brings him in closer so that he won’t fall. _He is his anchor._

For a minute, Jihoon just a person. And for a minute, he can love Guanlin openly without restraint.


	5. Remedy

Jihoon still doesn’t understand how he got so lucky being Guanlin’s boyfriend.

Every time he mentions this, Guanlin assures him that _he’s_ the lucky one for having the Jihoon as a boyfriend. But the elder considers that maybe he’s just being polite because _boy_ is Guanlin perfect—Jihoon can barely compare. He’s sweet, handsome, funny, smart, and talented. Not to mention, Jihoon’s pretty sure his own mother loves him more than she loves her literal _only_ son. But he feels that.

For the past week, Jihoon’s been feeling a bit under-the-wind. His throat is scratchy and nose a bit runny. Thankfully, his cold doesn’t hit him at full force until around Friday night when he can lay in bed and curse the fragility of human life.

He’s wrapped up in heaps of blankets, but leaves a little hole where he can poke his hand out and type on his phone.

**Guanlin (6:23PM):** Hey! ♥️ You still down to watch a movie at my place later?

Jihoon frowns when he sees this. In the midst of his misery, he’d almost forgotten he had plans with basically the love of his life, which is surprising considering how excited he was to see the other after a long week of work. Jihoon thinks he must be _really_ coming down with something horrible.

**Jihoon (6:24PM):** i cantt… sorry lin :(( i got sick

 **Jihoon (6:24PM):** maybe next week?

 **Guanlin (6:25PM):** You’re sick, hyung? What’s wrong? D:

 **Jihoon (6:25PM):** nothing but a small cold, i'll be fine

 **Jihoon (6:26PM):** just don’t want you to get sick too :(

Jihoon waits for Guanlin’s reply, but he doesn’t do so within the next five minutes, so Jihoon just falls asleep. He doesn’t know how much time has passed before he hears the sound of keys being shoved into his door and Guanlin’s familiar footsteps entering his apartment.

He blearily opens his eyes to find the younger setting down some plastic bags and kicking off his shoes.

“Guanlin…?” He tries to say, but it sounds more like a pathetic gurgle followed by a fit of coughs.

Not even a second later, Guanlin’s face is in his immediate vision, somehow looking happy to see him and contorted with concern. “I told you not to come” Jihoon whines.

Guanlin frowns and puts the back of his hand against his forehead, sighing when he feels that he’s burning up, “Of course I’d come.”

“But you’ll get siiiick.”

“All the more reason for me to be here, then.”

Jihoon huffs at the taller’s comforting smile. Even though Guanlin is two years younger than him, Jihoon can’t help but to feel like _he’s_ the one being babied all the time. He probably should have just told Guanlin that he was busy and couldn’t make it because now, he’s putting his health in danger too.

Jihoon sighs in defeat, “What’s in the bags?”

“Food.”

Hearing this, Jihoon perks in interest and Guanlin laughs.

“They’re ingredients for soup. I had my mom send me the recipe a little while ago,” Guanlin elaborates while brushing his hands through Jihoon’s hair. His hands are usually warm—which Jihoon loves very much—but right now, they feel cool and soothing against his sweaty head.

Jihoon pouts, “I hate this. Why are you so perfect.”

Guanlin snickers and places a gentle kiss onto Jihoon’s puffed out lips. “Anything for my perfect boyfriend.”

Jihoon hums in satisfaction, so Guanlin kisses him again and again, leaving him more winded and dizzier than he already was before. “Now you’re _really_ gonna get sick.”

“Then we’ll suffer together.” Guanlin smiles, giving him another peck for good measure, then walking into the kitchen.

Jihoon reddens and curls deeper into his pile of blankets, keeping only his eyes visible so he can watch Guanlin cook. “Cheeky brat,” He mumbles to himself, but smiles under the protection of his covers where the other can’t see him.


	6. You Got Me on My Tippy-Toes

Jihoon has never considered himself the self-conscious type, but as he stands in front of the door frame that marks every single height milestone he’s achieved since about two years old, he begins to feel a little… _short._

He never thought too much about his height, because, well, he thinks he stands pretty average at 171 centimeters. He guesses it never occurred to him until now—that is—since he started dating Guanlin who is two years younger than him while also a whole 11 centimeters taller.

He likes Guanlin a lot. There’s no doubt about that. The sophomore made it very obvious that he liked him too—trying to work up the nerve to talk to him his entire freshman year despite being the star player on their high school’s basketball team. Guanlin probably thought he was being sly, trying to catch him in the halls or hang around in the library at the same time he was, but it’s kind of hard to miss a literal giant who is both undeniably handsome and extremely popular, attracting attention wherever he walks. For all of these reasons, including his height, Jihoon can’t help but to feel like he’s… _lacking_ … in a way, being next to him.

This Monday is just like every other Monday: Guanlin waits for Jihoon after his third period class and walks him to his fourth since this is the only time their classrooms are _a little_ close to each other. Today, Guanlin rambles on about how there’s this new movie coming out that they should go see this weekend. He’s so excited that he doesn’t quite notice that they’ve already arrived at Jihoon’s classroom until the first bell suddenly rings.

“Aw,” Guanlin frowns, snapping back into the present to watch a handful of students bolt towards their classrooms. He looks down at Jihoon sadly.

“It’s okay, I’ll see you after school,” Jihoon assures him, which makes the younger smile again. “And I’d love to see that movie with you this weekend.”

Guanlin beams and nods rapidly, “Then, I’ll buy us tickets?”

“Yeah!”

Before the younger turns to leave, Jihoon pulls him back by the hand and tries to give him a kiss. But he soon realizes with a pout, that his lips only reach up to Guanlin’s chin, so he gets up on his tippy-toes and tries again, only to wobble and trip forward. _“Guanlin-ah,”_ He huffs, tugging at his jacket and poofing out his lips.

Guanlin realizes what he’s trying to do a beat too late, but he quickly bursts into another blinding grin before tilting his head down to meet Jihoon halfway. “Love you, hyung,” He hums, giving his waiting lips another peck, “Have a nice class!”

Guanlin walks off, leaving Jihoon to stumble into his classroom with his heart thrumming and face flushed in happiness.

He doesn’t mind his first class because his appointed seat is conveniently next to his best friend since birth, Park Woojin. They’re inseparable— _literally ride or die for each other_. He makes Shakespeare’s boring soliloquies a little more interesting to listen to… well, _when he’s not sleeping_ … but today, he’s awake, and he greets Jihoon with the sound of his signature cackle.

“What??” Jihoon urges, knowing full well when his laughing is directed _him_. He flicks the other in the head but that doesn’t make Woojin stop laughing.

“Just some friendly advice—from amigo to amigo—maybe take your PDA somewhere that _doesn’t_ block half the doorway into the classroom.”

Hearing this, Jihoon ignites red in embarrassment, which draws another fit of cackles from Woojin. A few other kids start to giggle too and Jihoon slumps back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He figures he probably deserves this, especially since he would have been grossed out by PDA from anyone else before he started dating Guanlin, but he still flips Woojin off.

“Hey, at least you and Guanlin have this size difference thing going on,” Woojin smiles all cheeky and annoying, “You looked really, _really_ adorable standing up on your tippy-toes to kiss him.”

Jihoon knows that Woojin doesn’t mean anything bad with what he said. Again, they’re best friends, which entitles them to certain rights. Poking fun at each other is something they do on the daily, but for some reason, after he says this, Jihoon can’t stop thinking about how short he is.

For the rest of the class, Jihoon wonders if everyone else has noticed this too. Heck, he probably looks like a gnome standing next to Guanlin, all short and stocky… _even Woojin is a little taller than him_. Usually, stuff like this wouldn’t bother him, but it _eats_ him up inside since he already feels like there a ton of expectations on him being Guanlin’s boyfriend. It’s mostly just an imaginary pressure that he puts on himself though, but… it’s still there and he can’t ignore it.

When he gets home, he sees that door frame marking every single one of his heights for the past eighteen years of his life. He notices now that he hasn’t grown at all in the past three years and frowns.

Statistically speaking, not a lot of people share the same heights and end up getting together, so there’s always going to be a shorter person in every relationship— _typically_. Woojin and his boyfriend have a height difference too… but, Jihoon realizes with his shoulders sagging, it’s definitely not large to the point where his boyfriend has to get on his toes to give him a kiss like _he_ does.

The next few days, Jihoon still hangs out with Guanlin, treating him all the same, but now, he does everything he can to avoid having to either stand on his toes to kiss Guanlin, or let Guanlin lean down to give him a kiss. Whenever they say their goodbyes, he bows his head and awkwardly shuffles away before anything can actually happen, and when they meet, he quickly launches into conversation to avoid exchanging their usual greeting kiss.

It’s on Friday when Guanlin approaches Jihoon during lunch, which is not something they normally do since they agreed to keep lunchtime for their friends. Guanlin leaves his table with the other basketball players to catch the elder by the arm before he sits down with his own friends. “Hyung, can we go somewhere private?”

Jihoon flushes about a million shades red because all of his friends start wolf-whistling and hollering. But from the way Guanlin is looking at him, he can tell it’s probably something serious. “Yeah, sure.”

As they walk away, Woojin starts making obnoxious kissing sounds and the rest of his friend group is shooting him thumbs-ups. They exit the cafeteria and walk through the empty halls of their school. It’s quite for a few moments before Guanlin randomly blurts out, “Is something wrong?”

Jihoon startles. “Does it… seem like something is wrong?”

“Well, no.” Guanlin flushes and shifts on his feet.

It’s very obvious that he still has more to say, so Jihoon blinks up at him, waiting.

“It’s just that…” The younger pauses and clears his throat. He scratches the back of his head nervously, with his face turning red and his gaze elsewhere, “W-We haven’t really… kissed in a while…”

_“O-Oh”_

When Guanlin finally looks at him again, his eyes are sad and apologetic, “Is it me, hyung? Did I do something to upset you?”

“No!” Jihoon practically shouts, voice loud in the hallway. “It’s not you… it’s… uh, my—” Suddenly, his worries sound stupid in his own head. He figures that Guanlin would laugh at him for getting so worked up over something as unimportant as his height, but he decides to just go for it anyway. “It’s… _my height…”_ He mumbles.

Guanlin looks surprised for a second. “Y-Your height?” He repeats, and Jihoon nods hesitantly. “What about it?”

“I’m… _short,_ if you haven’t noticed,” Jihoon mopes, “It’s just… I, uh… when I want to kiss you… I have to stand on my toes and it makes me… _”_ He sighs sadly, hoping the other will get the hint.

It’s then quiet for a long minute. He’s not quite ready to look at the other just yet, but he doesn’t have to because Guanlin grabs him by the hand and drags him into the stairwell.

“Where are we going?” Jihoon asks.

Quickly, Guanlin positions him onto the second step and takes a step down so that they’re now eye-level. “Better?” He asks, holding his waist.

Jihoon takes a second to look at the position they’re in. It’s so ridiculous, he can’t help but to burst into laughter. The sound makes the worry melt from the younger’s face.

“Yeah, I think I can get used to this,” Jihoon nods, still smiling. He wraps his arms around Guanlin’s neck and gives him a few kisses between his giggles.

Now, Guanlin is beaming too. “But seriously, hyung, I think your height is perfect and you should think so too. But… if you really only want to kiss in stairwells from now on, I’m okay with that.”

“No, you’re right. I was being silly,” Jihoon confesses.

“No, you weren’t,” Guanlin tells him, and kisses him again, “It’s something that means a lot to you, and I understand that.”

The elder quiets and thumbs at the tag on Guanlin’s shirt, listening.

“Please don’t be self-conscious over something like your height. There’s so much more to you than just that,” Guanlin explains, “I just wanted to see you happy again, and honestly, I’d still like you no matter how tall you were. You’re perfect, hyung.”

At that, another grin spreads across Jihoon’s face and he takes a step down from the staircase, feeling much better. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Guanlin nods.

This time, Jihoon doesn’t hesitate when he rises up onto his toes, pulls the younger down by the nape of his neck, and gives him a kiss. It’s warm and sweet, and makes him happy. He figures that this is all that really matters.


End file.
